July 2011
21 posts
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12
alexher:
You are such a talented and amazing writer. I mean this fully and not just to say it. I don’t actually know you very much which is kind of a shame and I always sort of regret that I don’t. I wont lie i secretly gave you that position I did because I was hoping i’d actually get to know you slightly better. Devious I know but I legitimately admire your writing and talent that much. You...
“People say I make strange choices, but they’re not strange for me. My sickness...”
– Johnny Depp
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deadliftpoetry asked: Apropos your writing (or lack thereof):
"If you sit down to write only fifty times in a year, versus someone who has pretty much gone at it every day, their one year would be seven years for you. A work ethic is incredibly important to people in the arts, and yet we tend not to think of that way. Particularly poets. We are so much taken with this idea of inspiration. Many...
"If you sit down to write only fifty times in a year, versus someone who has pretty much gone at it every day, their one year would be seven years for you. A work ethic is incredibly important to people in the arts, and yet we tend not to think of that way. Particularly poets. We are so much taken with this idea of inspiration. Many...
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the basic rundown in my head these days
Suzi I: hey, so, about that writing thing.
Suzi II: yeah, well, you know, it's summer, I'm working and in class, and I'm about to move out of the country, so I'm pretty distracted.
Suzi I: good thing Bob Butler doesn't read your Tumblr.
Suzi II: right? his most recent FB status was: "up since 3:30, still no sun, passed 72000 words on my next book." what a jerk. you know what I was doing at 3:30? sleeping. probably getting over a hangover.
Suzi I: well, that's productive. good thing you're planning on making this your entire life. Alexander Pope was writing poetry at the age of 5. Anna Paquin won an Oscar at age 11. do you know what John Keats was doing at your age?
Suzi II: dying?
Suzi I: with a lot more writing under his belt, too. and you're just getting drunk in southern dive bars and watching "Californication."
Suzi II: there you go! Hank Moody fucks total strangers and drinks whiskey alone and completely ignores his creative drive and then he comes out with a killer novel out of nowhere.
Suzi I: what a good actor, huh? pretending to be a writer will only get you so far, you know. you realize that even spending the time on a Tumblr chat post about how you aren't writing is just adding to the complete and utter unwillingness to face the fact that you aren't writing, right?
Suzi II: shut up.
Suzi I: seriously, though. you could be working on that short story you wanted to send to Bob or even a shitty poem about moving away, but instead you're trying to justify your lack of inspiration and creative motivation by making a quippy blog update.
Suzi II: yeah, well, at least it's writing.
Suzi I: great, writing but not really writing about the fact that you're not writing. fan-fucking-tastic. I need a drink. I need to go eat chocolates and watch Netflix. I give up.
Suzi II: this will get worked out in Argentina, right? that's the hope, right?
Suzi I: yep. sure. whatever you want to tell yourself.
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“My mind is filled with radio cures, electronic surgical words, picking apples...”
– “Radio Cure,” Wilco
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Catch a Body
Salinger, I’m sorry, but “Don’t ever tell anybody anything” is a string of words I would like to wrap up in canvas and sink to the bottom of the Hudson, or extract by laser from the ribcage of all of us who ever believed it, who felt afraid to miss someone, to be the last one standing. “Tell everyone everything” is not exactly right, but I do believe that if your mother looks...
“There is always something left to love.”
– “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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“Let’s go on pretending that the light is never-ending; we still have the...”
– “All The Years,” Beach House
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CUBA, CUBA, CUBA
anthonybourdain:
Say what you want about Castro—(we CAN, after all, Cubans not so much)—he managed, through design or neglect, to keep Havana beautiful. Run down, crumbling, many buildings barely habitable—even the national baseball team has to play during the day because their stadium lights are broken and the country is too poor to fix them. Where things barely work, where time is arrested,...
“It is not that I hate it. I love it, I love it very much. But I love it against...”
– Werner Herzog
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“Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance, shaped like a globe, which...”
– Virginia Woolf, “The Waves”
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Excerpt from “Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out”
Every morning the maple leaves.
Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts
from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big
and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out
You will be alone always and then you...